Next Gen: The Dementor's Curse
by UnknownUnseenUnheard
Summary: Albus is haunted by nightmares that won't go away. A strange man, with glowing blue eyes. The year before, he discovered a Chimera in the school- named Lee Lee. The world is changing, and a new threat is rising. A plot is under way, and Albus finds himself at the center. Can he solve it, or will it be too late- for him, and for his brother James?
1. Prologue

Prologue

**1944  
Germany**

Rain. Why was there always rain? It seemed a common theme.  
Then again, that might have more to do with the lightning bolts striking the sky than anything else. Raw magical energy, redirected into the heavens as Dumbledore deflected a blast from his opponent.

His opposition did not like that.

His opposition did not like that at all.

Out of the pair, Dumbledore was stronger. He was more powerful. His blows had more brute force. The waving interlocking weaves of his attacks were more intricate, complex. His magic was undeniably stronger, yes.

The assassin, however, was crafty. The rain served as a cover of sorts. Dumbledore silently pondered as to what kind of spell could be used to cause a cloudless sky to burst like a shattered flood gate. After all, the water had to be coming from somewhere.

This was no conjuration. Conjurations were fake, illusions, husks of reality. This was no illusion. The rain was real. The thunder was real. The shroud it cast was real, and a simple wave of his wand would not make it go away.

Dumbledore was power.

The assassin, however, was finess.

On the other side of the continent, a letter reaches a man as he sits in his office. Gingerly, he lifts it in his aged fingers, thumbs it open, and reads.

And promptly drops the glass he has just served himself, letting it shatter on the ground along with its contents.

"Fight me, you coward! Fight, damn it!" Dumbledore shouts, finally getting frustrated. Dumbledore was not a patient man. Perhaps in another couple of decades, patience would befit him. But, here and now?

No, Dumbledore was not a patient man.

The assassin crouched behind a broken wall, waiting. He knew he could not overpower Dumbledore. That much was obvious. Dumbledore was too strong for the assassin to possibly hope to defeat him with a direct attack.

But, Dumbledore was human. And humans could be tricked. Humans could be killed.

Dumbledore walked down the path, weariness in his step. There was too much rain. he could see nothing. Everything was covered in the storm. His robes were soaked and his skin was chilled.

"Face me!" Dumbledore called. "Face me, murderer! You murdered my sister, you killed her!" Dumbledore hollered.

The assassin frowned momentarily before smiling. Dumbledore had mistaken him for another. Who, the assassin wasn't sure, but this could work to his advantage. Suddenly, the impatience made sense coming from a man legend for his calm-headedness. Dumbledore was in mourning. His sister was dead, the grief was beating through his veins, and now- now was the opportune moment to make his strike.

Yes, the assassin smiled. This would be easier than he thought.

"Grindelwald! Face me, damn it! Come out and fight!"

Grindelwald. Dumbledore had mistaken the assassin for his master. This time, when he frowned, it did not leave his face. Even filled with grief, Dumbledore mistaking him for Grindelwald was far-fetched.

No matter. His mission did not involve slaying unless he was presented the utmost opportunity. No, to attempt such would be suicide and Grindelwald knew this.

The assassin was a distraction.

But, in Dumbledore's current state... Perhaps his defeat could be assured. The assassin smiled. Yes, Dumbledore's death would be assured here, tonight, and he would be rewarded.

The assassin in particular did not follow Grindelwald out of fear. He followed out of respect of the man that raised and trained him in the Dark Arts. Yes, he was young. Just a boy, really. But, it was time to prove himself. Prove himself worthy.

Thousands of miles away, a man raced as far as a broomstick would carry him. Yes, a broomstick. Apparation would be more or less impossible until he passed the barrier. Europe was at war on two fronts- Muggle and Magical. So, a broomstick was his best bet.

Cursing, the man tried to get the thing to speed up and move faster. It did not obey his commands.

Dumbledore turned his back.

Mistake.

The assassin rolled on the ground, before lifting both- yes, both- of his wands and shooting out twin Killing Curses.

Instinct took over as Dumbledore flung himself away. When he rose, the assassin was nowhere in sight. Dumbledore conjured a shield and held it close. He doubted it would last long, but he needed some type of defense.

Then, with a flick of his wrist brilliant flames erupted into the skies, illuminating the area. Light fell around the broken remains of what had once been a thriving village. A village that had been utterly annihilated only hours earlier.

The bodies were all around. The rain washed away the blood, but the stench, it seemed, was too great to be carried away by the waves.

Movement.

Dumbledore seung around and fired a blasting curse. Crude, he realized, but this was no time to be fancy. Fancy spellwork was for demonstration. For show, or when you had your opponent right in front of you and you knew exactly where to direct the attack. This opponent was not right in front of him. This opponent was not in his line of sight. No, this enemy was sly, quick, and deadly.

A killer.

Suddenly, the assassin did the unexpected. He leaped out from behind the ruins of an old shop and let loose a volley of curses.

Dumbledore, of course, deflected them all with ease before sending a single blast back. Piercing his opponents defenses, the assassin was blasted backwards, slamming against the wall.

Satisfied, Dumbledore walked forward to see if his enemy had been correctly incapacitated. Despite his anger, Dumbledore was not a murderer. He wouldn't stoop to that level. But, he wouldn't lose any sleep if his opponent was dead, either. After all, this had been meant to be a duel to the death.

The man rushing across the continent prayed he would not be too late. He would never forgive himself if he was. He could not let this happen. He could not let his brother die. Damn it, why did his last living sibling have to be so stubborn?

The man supposed this was his fault. He refused to fight. So, his brother had taken his place. His brother had answered the pleas that he himself had ignored. And now, he was going to pay the ultimate price.

Dumbledore walked towards the assassin, approaching slowly.

He never saw.

The flicker to his left? He never saw. Beneath the rain, it just wasn't tangible, even with the eternal flames burning above. He did not see, but he felt.

Slash.

The back of his knees exploded with red hot pain. Dumbledore tried to turn but ended up stumbling. His wand was kicked out of his hand. Yes, kicked, before a blast knocked him off his feet, causing him to collapse on the cold hard floor.

The body he'd supposedly struck faded. Illusion. Fake. He should have known! The attacks he's so easily deflected had been too easy to defect to be real.

"The Great Dumbledore. I must say, I expected more."

That voice. It was not the voice of his sister's killer! He'd come all this way- for nothing! He'd followed a decoy instead of the real thing. Dumbledore swore loudly as he realized this.

The assassins' eyebrows rose in the air at this. That was odd. Using one wand, he lifted Dumbledore's paralyzed body off the ground and looked into the eyes of the man he'd been fighting.

"Well, I'll be damned."

He'd caught a Dumbledore, alright. Just not the one he'd been sent to distract. Because, staring right back at him, was not Albus Dumbledore. No, he was racing his way as fast as magically possibly to their destination.

Abeforth growled at him.

Vantias Verus smiled. This might not be the target he had anticipated. But, Grindelwarld would be pleased all the same.


	2. Dreams

**Chapter 1**

**Dreams**

Flames. All around him, they roared and hissed. An azure mix of dancing lights all encircling him.

Naturally, Albus screamed. Screaming is something instinctive when it comes to being surrounded by burning scathing heat from all corners with no plausible way out.

He glanced around, trying to find an escape. Come on, come on! There had to be some way to get out of- there! A mere couple feet away, an exit!

Albus rushed towards it as fast as his feet could carry him- before the cold cool chains he hadn't noticed before yanked him back and kept him bound.

No, no, no! Fear filled Albus as the blue flames burst around him in a blur of dancing color.

"Help! Please! Somebody help me, please!" Albus pleaded as the fire began to lick at his flesh. He hollered for all he was worth.

Then, a voice, calling out from a distance, echoing on the walls around him.

"To kill him now... A mercy..."

Albus yelled out one last time before his eyes snapped open and he felt a strong pair of hands gripping at his shoulders.

"Al? Al? Come on, little bro, wake up! Just a nightmare, 'Kay? Wake up, please wake up."

Sleepily, Albus looked up at the figure of his brother, standing over him and looking down at him with worried eyes.

"James?" Albus, still in a dream like state, muttered in surprise.

A pair of bright brown eyes grinned down at him in response before a fist collided with his arm.

"Owe!" Albus hissed, jumping up and glaring at James.

"You were screaming bloody murder. Had me worried, princess." James shrugged in response.

Albus blinked.

"Again?"

"Yep."

Albus groaned and let his head fall back on the pillow with a sigh. For some reason beyond him, the entire summer vacation had been marred by strange dreams. In these chilling nightmares, Albus was usually assaulted by a strange man, a man with glowing blue eyes, shining down at him like glistening little star lights.

And, he always ended up tossing, turning, and yelling his head off. Glancing up at his brother, Albus muttered a quick thanks before he noticed that James had already walked off and was settling himself down once more as if waking his little brother from a nightmare was the most ordinary task in the world. Considering how the summer had been going to far, that might not be too far off the mark, Albus thought with annoyance.

Sighing, Albus turned over once more, facing the wall. Who was the man, he wondered? A face, pale as the moon. Eyes like embers. And that voice... That voice that haunted his subconscious. Albus was certain he hadn't come up with any of it.

Then, why couldn't he remember? It was all so confusing...

* * *

Harry watched his youngest son out of the corner of his eye as they all ate dinner together with increasing concern. He made sure not to outright show it, but he had every reason to be worried.

Memory manipulation was a tricky thing. You could take memories away, add new ones. Toy with the human mind, twist it as you see fit. But, it was never perfect. Truth and reality were things that could never truly be destroyed. Even if the mind itself is made to forget, the soul is eternal and memories etched in it could never be banished.

There was a reason ghosts, without their bodies and without their minds and without their brains could remember every aspect of their life time, after all.

And, with ever passing moment, Harry was certain the memory charm he'd cast on his own child was beginning to wear off.

James remembered nothing. He didn't remember a second of the possession he had suffered the past year, didn't remember a rogue entity practically feeding off his soul. Remembered nothing of it.

But Albus?

Constant nightmares full of chains and fire and glowing blue eyes. Albus, subconsciously, was fighting the obliviation Harry had cast on his own son. James was not, not even in the slightest. Harry supposed that this could be attributed to natural 'memory loss' possession victims were subjected to while under the dominion of a foreign being controlling their flesh. Still, Albus was fighting it.

Harry did not want his children to suffer. He did not want them to hurt. And he knew perfectly well that one day they'd remember, whether he gave the memories back of the previous year or they discovered it on their own. But, he also knew that experienced that traumatic could scar the mind.

After all, a possessed James had kidnapped his brother, chained him up, and tormented him with insane babbling about how Albus had to die for 'the greater good'. That was enough to mess with any child's mental state.

Ginny would be furious if she ever learned what Harry had done. But, in the end, he felt like he had to. One of the most powerful beings he had ever known had taken over his oldest. Who knows what it had left inside James' head, hidden in some remote corner of his mind. So, his obliviation really had been necessary. Albus, however...

The obliviation had not been needed. Had not been, but Harry did it anyways. He didn't want his little boy to be traumatized for life over the event. Now, it seemed like it had been useless. Albus was still haunted by memories he didn't even realize he possessed. Harry inwardly sighed. He should have known this would come back to bite him in the ass.

He supposed he could strengthen the memory charm. But, what affect that would have on Albus was beyond Harry. Memory manipulation was a tricky thing indeed.

* * *

Dad kept giving Albus remote glances whenever he thought his youngest wasn't looking. But Albus saw, Albus noticed, and Albus wondered.

There was concern and worry on his fathers face with each discrete glance. But, there was something else. Something Albus could not quiet place.

He silently wondered why he kept having those odd dreams. Once, he'd woken up in a cold sweat, almost swearing that a blue-eyed shadow was standing over him.

Mum and Lily were chatting away about irreverent girl chatter, James was playing army men with his food, dad was sending him covert glances and Albus was silently wishing he was anywhere but here.

Truth be told, he wanted to go back to Hogwarts. Home and the summer vacation were fun, sure, but Albus liked it much better over there than here. The castle was large and massive and full of hidden passageways, secrets all about and bursting with magic. Home, at the moment was, for lack of a better word, awkward.

On top of Albus' nightmares, he'd once woken and, on instinct, attacked the object of his terrors- James. That had made things weird for a few days. Well, weird for Albus. James had shrugged it off. If he only knew... Then, there was dad and his extremely overt glances. Add to that the occasional annoyed look mum would send dad whenever she was sure he was hiding something from her, and the family situation was tense indeed.

Lily alone seemed unaffected. She didn't bother worrying herself over the oddness of her family.

Half way across the world, a plot was in place. Pieces were coming together. And, Rose Weasley rose in a screaming crazed hysterical fit, her eyes glazed over, white and pale and sightless, as she saw in her minds eye a murder a thousand miles away.

* * *

His blood was twisted against his will as he was lifted from the ground like a rag doll. The man struggled, but this was not the kind of power that can be fought. He could not move. He was bound, completely and utterly. Defenseless.

Chains are one thing. At least with chains, you still have some mobility. You can control your own flesh. You can move your own body, even if it's just a finger, a toe, even your eyes.

He couldn't even move those.

And, it was terrifying. Fear pounded in his veins. This was it.

He was going to die.

He was going to die, here, now, and he couldn't even scream. Hell, he couldn't blink.

The cold eyes of the killer met his and the assassin lifted his hand. Fingers curled together into a fist, and the fist twisted to the side, as if turning a doorknob.

He had a mere second to recognized that old face, one he'd known so long ago, one he'd fought so long ago during that war his older brothers ex-friend/possibly-more-than-a-friend/sister's-mur derer had begun, before his heart inside his chest twisted, turned, and literally burst inside his chest.

The body fell to the ground, blood seeping from his mouth, his eyes, his ears.

The assassin turned and departed, the latest of his many kills complete.

* * *

"Rose, sweetie, wake up, please!"

"Al, wake up! Albus! Please, wake up little brother!"

"What's wrong with Rose?"

"Does it look like I know what's wrong with our daughter, Ronald? Rose, Rose, wake up! It's just a dream. Just a nightmare, sweetie. Wake up. Please wake up."

"Al, if you don't open your eyes in the next ten seconds, I'm gonna take down the silencing charm you made me put up and you know mom, she'll be here in a heartbeat!"

Both pairs of eyes, miles away from one another, snapped open in unison. Blank without any color, Albus turned to stare at his brother as Rose turned to stare at her mother.

"You're dead. Lost soul, gone forever. You're dead. Worse than dead. Soulless." Albus spoke.

Hermione and Ron both went flying as magical energy beat from their daughter. Then, in a mad fit, she threw herself off the bed, drew her wand, and waved it in wild patterns towards the wall.

Colored lines formed themselves, drawing a picture, forming images.

James reeled back, looking at his brother with increased fear. He was seriously starting to freak him out. Then, Albus' eyes returned to their normal jade-green hue and he fell back with a hump, completely unconscious and probably unaware of any of the words that had slipped past his tongue.

Disturbed, James backed away slowly.

Part of him felt he should tell his parents. But, for some reason, he had the nagging feeling that trusting his father at the moment would not be wise. And mom? She'd freak and probably try to make them stay home the entire school year, which was just not acceptable.

No, he'd keep quiet. For now.

Rose let her wand fall with a clatter. She swayed for a few seconds before falling backwards. Ron managed to catch her in time and, gently lifting her, he took his daughter in his arms and made his way to his bedroom. Rose would be furious when she woke up. She hated sleeping with in her parents bed, believing it made her immature and childish. At the moment, however, that was not up for discussion as Hermione stared at the wall.

Painted, in vivid color and detail, was the murder of Abeforth Dumbledore.


	3. Mutant

A/N:

Thanks to **Riku Stark, PenMagic, LevictusWilkes, DarkDramaLady, RangerManaInSnuggieWar, and Shinen no Hikari **for commenting!

****As for you, **Lilly,** I'll add in your character as a new student, but whether she becomes a major character from there is yet to be seen.

On with the story.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Mutant**

Aberforth Dumbledore had lived a long hard life. In his youth, he had been forced to take care of his precious sister, who, weak, could barely fend for herself, while his brother, the 'great' Albus Dumbledore, ran around with his secret gay lover that Aberforth pretended not to know about.

Then, due to Albus and his eccentricities, his sister had died in a three way duel. Three way duel, because Albus, instead of only defending his own kin, also attempted to defend his pseudo-boyfriend that was obviously manipulating him fifteen different ways.

Aberforth was certain it had been Grindelwald to kill his sister. Of the three, he was the only one shooting lethal curses. Albus cast defensive spells and, while Aberforth used aggressive spells, none of his would have actually killed on impact.

The curse that hit Ariana killed on impact.

Of course, Albus himself would never admit to that. After all, how could he? How could he admit that a man he had brought into his home, a man he had trusted, a man he had chosen over his own_ family_ had murdered his own little sister?

Of course, Aberforth personally didn't give a shit about his older brother's hardships. Ariana was dead and, as far as he was concerned, Albus might as well have killed her himself.

He sighed slightly as he wiped down the bar with the old rag he kept in the back. The Hog's Head was absolutely filthy. He could mutter a few cleaning spells here and there, but at his old age, he couldn't be bothered.

He'd inherited the Hog's Head from his late wife, Freya. Gods, how he missed her and the way she sang and the way she smiled and the way her eyes would shine with glee and the way she would sing to the birds.

There's was a love that had expanded for the better part of five decades. Forty years later, and he still loved her as much as he did the day he lost her in the waning days of the first war against Voldemort, at the Dark Lord's hands himself.

Funny. Her brother had tried to kill Aberforth. Repeatedly. Once, in a small abandoned town in Germany, the two had dueled nearly to the death as rain swept them. Aberforth had lost that particular battle against his bride's much younger sibling.

Aberforth's head snapped up as he heard something shatter. A window, most likely. He might be old, but, like his brother, even in old age he was not a wizard to be trifled with. Aberforth Dumbledore might not have the utter raw power and finesse his older brother had wielded, but he was still one of the few beings that could say they dueled two separate Dark Lords (Grindelwald and Voldemort) and survived.

His hand reached for his wand as he began to wander around the Hog's Head, looking for the intruder.

With a wordless flick, the lights came alive. Aberforth looked about, before his eyes latched onto the back door. The window had a fist-sized hole in it, and was obviously open.

Aberforth narrowed his eyes and spun full circle, looking for the intruder. Who would dare barge into the home of the last living Dumbledore? Aberforth had dueled with the best and come out on top. He had once single-handedly bested Mad-Eye Moody in a one on one duel, killed more Death Eaters than he could count in the first war against Voldemort, and had fought on the battlefields of both World Wars.

There was a quick shatter followed by a hiss. Aberforth turned towards the noise as a faint fog filled the air. Suspicious, Aberforth waved his wand at it, causing the vapor to dissipate all around the Hog's Head, leaving only a small blue bulb that it had been housed in behind.

How... Odd, Aberforth thou-

With a force he had only felt once before, Aberforth was flung backwards as his wand was ripped from his grip. He gave out a loud uff as his back slammed against a wall, hard. A figure stepped out of the shadows, hood drawn up, hand extended outwards.

The hell?...

Aberforth could not breath as he felt the blood in his veins curl. He tried to give out a rasp, anything to get air into his lungs, but it was futile.

Chains are one thing. At least with chains, you still have some mobility. You can control your own flesh. You can move your own body, even if it's just a finger, a toe, even your eyes.

He couldn't even move those.

And, it was terrifying. Fear pounded in his veins. This was it.

He was going to die.

He was going to die, here, now, and he couldn't even scream. Hell, he couldn't blink.

Then, the door burst open and Aberforth dropped like a stone as the assassin turned.

_"Stupefy!"_ several stunning spells shot out towards the assassin, bright red and crimson streaking across the room.

Whoever the hooded figure was, however, was quick, agile, and able to dodge such blasts with practiced ease as the Aurors, led by Harry Potter himself, stormed the place. There was the quick sound of apporation as the Aurors surrounded the hooded figure.

"Don't take one more step." Potter, his wand trained on the assassin, commanded. The Inferous Killer, dubbed so by the media due to the belief that he was one of the prisoners Hermione had released the previous year from Fortress Inferous, Azkaban, and Nurmengard.

Since then, there had been numerous murders, not just across the British Isles, but across all of Europe as well. And, finally, they caught a break.

Even if it came at the expense of a thirteen year old girl's mental sanity. Whatever power Rose Weasley had to see into the future would likely be more a curse than anything else.

The Inferous Killer tilted his head to side as he examined each of them, evaluating his chances.

"Drop your wand. _Now!_" one of the Aurors commanded.

The ghost of a smile underneath the hood told Aberforth to be weary of this man. Already, he knew it was no witch or wizard by their standards. The possibilities were whirling in his head.

Wiccan witches had powerful wandless magic, albeit wands were useless to them and they couldn't do as many tricks as Wizarding witches.

There were other beings with powers like that as well.

Demon? No, not a demon, Aberforth thought, as he sniffed. Smell was off. So what the hell was it?

A psychic? No... Rarely did they get _this_ powerful. Whatever this entity was, it was something else entirely.

The Inferous Killer smiled as he lifted his hands, displaying his clearly empty palms. Instantly, the Aurors relaxed. All of them, except Potter, whom Aberforth noted did not drop his guard for a second.

It seemed the boy did learn after all, Aberforth decided.

Then, the Inferous Killer dropped to the ground as he waved his hands around, flinging most of the Aurors back. Most. Potter managed to drop to the ground before the telekinetic blast could strike, before rising and firing a curse of his own.

The Inferous Killer dodged about, dodging attacks as the rest of the Aurors rose and fired as well.

Quick as Mercury himself, the Inferous Killer wove among the Aurors, striking out of them with the palms of his hands, hitting key pressure points, causing a few to collapse on impact, snapping a neck before reaching the keg.

One strong kick later and butterbear was everywhere, splashing all about. Even Potter was knocked on his ass by that one. Aberforth, finally regaining control of his limbs, growled as he reached for his wand and, with a quick spell, cleaned up the mess that would surely cost him. Genuine butterbear wasn't exactly cheap, after all.

When it all cleared, the Inferous Killer was gone.

* * *

When Harry had received Hermione's call in the middle of the night, he'd been groggy, sleepy, and wanted nothing more than to rest. Then, as she explained the situation, all tiredness left him as he snapped out of bed and rushed to put together a team.

Harry had left immediately, making his way to the Hog's Head, praying they would not be too late, telling his fellow Aurors that he had received an anonymous tip on the next actions of the notorious Inferous Killer.

He couldn't very well tell them that his recently turned thirteen year old niece had spontaneously developed precognitive powers and had painted her walls in a vivid myriad of colors depicting the murder of Aberforth Dumbledore.

They arrived just on time, finding Aberforth pinned to the wall and the Inferous Killer about to finish the notorious deed.

The telekinesis was not something Harry had personally expected, but, having faced beings with those kinds of wandless powers before he, unlike his fellow Aurors, was far more prepared.

Of course, his Aurors knew beings like that existed. They simply hadn't faced any like Harry had over the years.

Three men had died in that assault. Three good men Harry had fought alongside for years were dead. He sighed slightly as he examined the scene. Butterbear was everywhere, there were three dead bodies, and the media would be open them like moths to a flame before the night was out, then Harry would have to answer awkward questions.

He couldn't very well tell the public that the Inferous Killer had tremendous control over wandless magic. If he did, either he'd end up with an international scare, or blatant disbelief. He wasn't sure which one would be better, to be honest.

"Sir." a voice called.

Harry turned, meeting the face of Dennis Creevey. After his brother's death during the second War against Voldemort, Creevey had sworn that he'd dedicate the rest of his life to fighting against the evils that took his brother from him, and he had fulfilled that promise, fighting back to the very death and becoming one of the best Aurors Harry had on his payroll.

"Yes?"

"I think you should take a look at this." Creevey motioned Harry over.

Harry followed as they made their way towards the Mediwitch examining the three dead bodies.

"I've never seen anything like this." Madam Zeller told Harry as she motioned the the blank transparent glow above the bodies.

Harry blinked. What was he suppose to be seeing?

"I fail to see-" Harry began.

"There is_ no_ magical signature on these bodies." Madam Zeller spoke.

Harry blinked again before his eyes locked on the bodies. Kneeling, he narrowed his eyes before looking back up to Madam Zeller.

"Can you run a diagnostic tests looking for distinct traces of radiation?" he asked.

"Radiation? Whatever for! They were obviously killed by magical-" Madam Zeller began.

"Just do it. Trust me." Harry spoke as he rose to full height, his eyes a lit with a strange glint. Zeller looked skeptical, but nodded and did as told.

Creevey gave Harry a look.

"Hunch?" he asked casually.

"I really hope not." was the only response he got, which made Creevey stare up at him in confusion, curiosity, and slight suspicion. Harry's Aurors trusted him on a fundamental level. But, all of them knew the famous Harry Potter was as secretive as the late Albus Dumbledore had been in life.

"I don't believe this!" Madam Zeller gasped, causing two pair of eyes to snap towards her.

The glow had gone from transparent to a shining shimmering blue.

Madam Zeller was shaking her head. Magic, she knew, gave off an electromagnetic pulse. It was the reason electronic Muggle devices did not work in magic-rich communities. Magic did not give off radioactive isotopes unless under extreme quantities, and even then, it did not give off _this_ much radiation.

Creevey's eyes snapped up to Harry, who's gone pale as bone.

"What does it mean?" he asked.

Harry blinked up, before meeting his gaze.

"It means... It means our killer isn't magical." Harry answered.

"How on earth could that be possible considering all of this?" Madam Zeller motioned to the carnage around them.

"Because, we don't have a magical killer on our hands. This killer gives of radiation no magical being can emit. It's not something magical, or supernatural. We're dealing with a damn_ mutant_."

Of course, Harry had no way of knowing that, crouched in the shadows with her pen poised and a notepad out, and scribbling furiously, was Mafalda Richardson, ready to already plotting to release the information to the world.


	4. My Little Fire Breather

A/N: Each name on the booklist is a reference to actual characters from other fandoms. The only name there actually native to HP happens to be the old Herbology Professor. Anyways, anyone think they can get the six character references?

Not much happens, to be honest. Just a trip through Diagon Alley. Next chapter, however, is the Hogwarts Express.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**My Little Fire Breather**

Albus yawned loudly as he got up.

James smiled slightly at the sight against his will. Albus had always been like that, the older brother realized as he thought it over. One second, the boy would be asleep, then, _snap_, awake. No in-between, like a light bulb. A properly functioning light bulb, that is.

Eyes blinked open as the boy looked around, surprised slightly at noticing James sitting in a chair, watching him intently.

"You were screaming bloody murder in your sleep, Al." James answered the unspoken question.

"Again?" Albus groaned, before sweeping his hand over the nightstand, hunting for his glasses.

Casually, James lifted said glasses, having held them the entire time the younger slept.

Albus squinted at the blur, before recognizing it. With an eyeroll, he held his hand out, demanding the object. James tossed it over, and Albus gripped them before placing them on his face.

Tossing the covers off easily, Albus sat up, before noticing that James' eyes were still locked on him. The blank stare his older brother was giving him was really starting to creep Albus the hell out.

"That bad?" Albus tried to break the awkward silence.

Nothing. Not even a blink. Just the same old blank stare. Albus was fairly certain his brother could beat a bloody basilisk at a staring contest should he attempt it.

"James?" Albus asked, slightly scared now. Had Albus said something in his sleep? A dark thought crossed his mind: had his brother finally realized that the dark architique of all Albus' nightmares was James himself? "Jaime?" Albus asked again, using the rarely used variant of his brother's name.

Suddenly, James looked away, as if struggling. He couldn't even look at Albus. Closing his eyes, James finally spoke. "You... Your eyes were glazed over, Al. And, you turned and fixed me with this... This blank stare. And you told me I was going to die." James didn't bother mentioning the 'soulless' bit. The dying part was hard enough. Adding the end of Albus' cryptic prediction would really be too much.

Albus reeled back, surprised. He had done what?

James finally opened his eyes, looking back to his younger sibling. There was fear there, shining through brightly. "I don't want to die, Al. Please... Tell me I'm not gonna die."

"Of course you aren't, you daft-" Albus began.

"Then why did you say it? Why did you say it, with a blank trance-like stare? Do you see the future, Al? I heard Aunt Hermione talking about them once. Seers. True seers, and how they were rare and far between. Is that what you are? A seer? Is that wha you dream every night? Me dying? Is that why you can't fucking look at me now adays! ANSWER ME!"

At this point, Albus was wonderfully glad for silencing charms and James' particular affinity for them. Still, the yelling from his normally calm, easy going and fun sibling was not a positive thing in Albus' day, any day.

The scream had the opposite effect of making Albus talk. He curled up in a ball, a sudden bout of terror ripping through him, half-forgotten memories of a possessed James growling at him and yelling and screaming and telling him he had to die. Of course, Albus had no idea his dreams were pieces of memory trying to break through the surface, but that was a story for another time.

Instantly, James regretted his actions.

Albus was a cheerful kid, full of smiles and laughs. Sure, sometimes his brother was way too serious for his own good, but never before had Albus curled in fear in front of him. Others(cough cough mum cough cough), sure, but never in front of James.

"Al." James muttered, before standing and casually touching the boy's shoulder. Albus, in response, flinched. Violently. James, on the other hand, snatched his hand away as if burned.

Silence.

.

.

"In my dreams," Albus began softly. James perked. A summer of constant random awakenings at all hours of the night, _finally_ unveiled. "You're there. And I'm there. And your eyes... They aren't your eyes, James. They're glowing with blue fire. Then, you speak, but it isn't your voice. It's someone elses voice, someone who's using you. You're possessed. And... And..." At this point, Albus had turned his head to look up at James. "You- it- keeps telling me that I have to die. That I'm a monster. That I have to be stopped... Because I'm some sort of weapon, and, if I'm not struck down..." Tears were streaming down his cheeks at this point.

Somehow, speaking all of this out loud made it all feel so much more realistic.

"And, then-" Albus never finished. Because, at that moment, Harry tossed his Disillusionment Charm. Both children gasped. There was no defense.

_"Obliviate!"_

Both their eyes glazed over. James full out fell to the floor. Harry then turned his concentration on Albus. The initial memory charm on it's own wasn't strong enough, Harry realized. He had to make it stronger.

Albus was far too young to be dealing with this bullshit. Harry had been forced to deal with it, because, at the end of the day, a final confrontation between him and Voldemort was inevitable. But, the case was not the same with Albus.

As far as Harry was concerned, he was going to make sure his little boy retained his childlike innocence free of insane half-angel's for as long as humanly possible.

So, delving into Albus' mind, Harry proceeded to lock the dark memories of the previous year behind well constructed walls. Walls that would only fall when the time was right. When Albus was ready, in Harry's opinion.

In other words: Never.

* * *

The morning at the Potter household was like any other.

Laughs and giggles and children chasing each other around.

James, as usual, awoke Albus by dumping ice-cold water on his sleeping brother's head. The usual chase ensued, knocking over Lily, who, furiously and with a stolen wand, began to fling jinxes every which way.

Needless to say, it was to no one's surprise that it ended with a very literal explosion as too much Floo powder was accidentally tipped into the fire place, causing emerald flames to erupt like wild fire.

Soon, both boys would be returning to Hogwarts for their second year, leaving behind a furious younger sister who would no doubt spend months plotting a way to get back at the two males who dared to be born before her. The nerve of those two, really...

However, until that time, they had to suffer a wrath far worse than Lily Potter the II.

Three letters, stringed together in a fashion that made them sound the most innocent word ever crafted in all of time and space. This was a gross deception, as the word defined a single woman who had more fury than a Hungarian Horntail crossed with a strange new species of beasts that had been circulating the globe known as 'Blast-Ended Skrewts'.

That word was simply as follows:

Mum.

Innocent looking, right?

WRONG!

"NEVER IN ALL MY YEARS- AND I THOUGHT FRED AND GEORGE WERE DANGEROUS, BUT NO! NO, EVEN THEY WERE NEVER STUPID ENOUGH TO DUMP AN ENTIRE CYLINDER OF FLOO POWDER INTO THE FIRE PLACE! YOU NEARLY DESTROYED THE HOUSE! AND, IN CASE THE PAIR OF YOU AREN'T ENTIRELY AWARE, MAGICALLY LIT FIRES DO NOT DIE UNTIL THEY INCINERATE EVERYTHING IN THEIR PATH! WHAT DO THE TWO OF YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELVES, HMMM?"

Albus' eyes were stuck the the floor, as were James'. However, this was not due to any sense of guilt from either boy. In reality, they were both trying really, really hard not to laugh in their mother's face. To do so would be suicide. Painful suicide. Or worse. Mum was particularly skilled at hexes that transfigured the victim into any number of things and left them stuck like that for hours.

Still, as far as Albus was concerned, this was James' fault.

Little git, throwing freezing water on him- AGAIN! Honestly, James needed to come up with a new way to wake Albus. The cold water was getting old. Albus, however, dared not mention it for fear that his brother would take it to heart and instead wake him with boiling water.

Okay, maybe not boiling, but super-hot. Mum would kill James should he use actual boiling water. Figuratively speaking, that is.

"WELL! WHAT DO THE PAIR OF YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELVES!" Mum demanded. More like gave a screech that would have a Grimm fleeing in a maddened run of terror.

"Al tossed the cylinder!" James declared before turning and running off.

Albus' jaw dropped.

"YOU LYING PRAT! You tossed the cylinder! JAMES!" with that, Albus ran off in pursuit- or would have, if he hadn't suddenly been hit by a body-binding curse, causing him to fall flat on his face. Sadly, Mum didn't deem this reason enough to help him, and, running through the house, yelled out to her other son.

These kids would be the death of her, she silently groaned.

Albus felt a foot pushing him onto his back.

And there she was, grinning in full delight. Lily smiled down at her older brother, before leaning down and whispering in his ear.

"I threw the cylinder." Then, smiling, the little witch skipped away, cackling evilly, knowing full well that mum wouldn't believe Albus should he accuse her- after all, he and James had already full out accused one another of the deed.

Yep. She was definitely a snake, Albus decided, while furiously attempting to break the body-bind by sheer force of will alone.

There was a yelp and Albus knew James had been caught as well.

In the end, both James and Albus were punished. For two weeks. In other words- until they got on the train again.

Again, Albus blamed Lily. Her and that innocent little smile she hid behind, while, in reality, she would plot and scheme. Like Uncle Ron, little Lily was a strategist- and damn good at it too. Should that girl every join the other side- well, let's just say the Light would be screwed.

Finally, however, the day arrived!

School!

Weird. Albus was excited, he thought, bewildered. He blamed Lily for that. She made it her life mission to make his home life hellish as her own personal way of getting back at him for being older. And male. Lily didn't like boys much. To her, they were icky, gross, and were only good for manual labor.

At least, that's what Al's memory of the summer told him, dreams and nightmares replaced with Lils, cackling away as he was blamed yet again for something she did. She rarely got caught, and was rather good at what she did. After all, who would suspect poor old innocent looking Lils?

Brat.

Today, they were going to Diagon Alley to get books. Books. Always books. Sure, Rose could be thrilled, but normal human beings like Albus and James? Of course they weren't! Anyways...

The list was as follows:

_1. Study of the Stars, by Isabel Evans_

_2. Enchantments Divine, Year 2, by Yen Sid_

_3. Malefactum: Study of the Dark Arts Volume II, by Willow Rosenberg_

_4. An Ode to Flora, by Pomona Sprout_

_5. Pathways of Time, by Dr. John Smith_

_6. Ensnaring the Senses: A Guide to Potion Making, by Piper Halliwell_

_7. Art of Change, Year 2, by Zatanna Zatara_

Luckily for Albus, that was all he had to get. James, on the other hand, was forced to also get books for both Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies.

However, what really had Albus excited was what they were getting after the books: OWLS! And not those evil trials set forth by educational decrees on an international scale, actual real post-delivering owls!

Oh, and Hugo and Roxanne were starting Hogwarts this year.

One short floo trip later(Lily smirked slightly at Albus while Mum wasn't looking and Dad pretended to be oblivious), and they had arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Aunt Hannah!" Lily ran up to the woman and practically jumped into the older woman's arms, who laughed before greeting the rest of the family.

"Have the others arrived?" Dad asked.

"ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER!"

Said boy jumped a mile in the air, before turning. Rose, smiling cheekily at him, waved. Albus glared as the adults laughed._ Laughed_ at his embarrassment. The nerve of those old... Old... Albus couldn't think of a word to fit this situation, actually. Huh. Eh.

Meanwhile, James and Justin had both put their heads together. Uh oh... This meant trouble. And, considering the look they shot at Albus, followed by a nasty grin that practically screamed, 'you're our target this year', Albus was sure they were planning something. Okay, sure wasn't the right word. He was absolutely 100 percent positively affirmative in the belief that his brother and cousin were planning a monstrously dangerous prank on him.

So, the group of four adults plus six kids(they always took Justin with them) made their way through Diagon Alley.

"I'll collect the books!" Aunt Hermione volunteered. "And take the girls." she added on the side. Rose was ecstatic. Books! Lils was furious. Books!?

"Apothecary!" Dad called, grabbing James and Justin, dragging them away, leaving Albus with Mum, Uncle Ron, and Hugo.

"Hugo and I need to go get his wand." Uncle Ron told Mum before grabbing the boy, dragging him off as well. Huh. They went from ten to... Two. That was fast.

"Come on Al, let's go get you your owl." Mum said, grabbing Albus by the hand and leading him away.

Albus heard a snicker and turned his head. Tabitha Nott stood just a few feet away, and was laughing at him as his mother took him along like a little kid. Albus glared. She looked away. Albus had very frightening glares.

They made their way to Eeylops Owl Emporium. However, Albus' eyes latched on to Magical Menagerie.

"Mum."

"Quiet, Al."

"Mum."

"We're nearly there."

"MUM!"

"What is it, Albus!"

"Can we go there instead?"

Mum turned her head as Albus pointed towards the Menagerie. She frowned slightly before looking down at Albus. "I thought you wanted an owl?"

"I can always steal- I mean _borrow_- Charlus." Albus replied, referring to James' owl. "Can I get something over there?" he pointed again.

Mum frowned and 'pretended' not to notice Albus mentioning thievery, if pretend entails a sharp squeeze of the hand followed by a narrowing of the eyes.

"Okay then, if that's what you want." Mum stated.

Albus would have jumped had his hand not been still caught in the vice-like grip of his mother's claw- hand. Hand. It was a hand. Although, with her nails, they could definitely be considered claws.

"Hello, good day, welcome to-" the cheerful clerk began.

"Hi Sarah." Mum interrupted.

"Ginny!" abandoning all professionalism(the little there was to begin with) the clerk rounded the table and hugged Mum. Huh. Must be another 'war buddy', Albus decided before wandering about the shop.

A bat screeched loudly in it's cage, giving Albus a look. He backed away. No bats. Even if one of his namesakes was constantly compared to one.

A couple of pixies growled at him. Sharp teeth. Good for a prank. A pet? Heck to the no.

A little puppy blinked up at Albus. He was almost swayed by the eyes. Until it opened it's mouth and started spitting acidic. Well. Spit.

Moving on...

Firecrab, imp, jarvey... No, nope. No.

Albus wondered if Mum would get annoyed that he was taking too long, but a glance told him she was currently chatting up her old friend. Crap. That could mean anywhere from staying five extra minutes to five extra _hours._

Then, he saw it.

Perfect!

And, he spat fire!

Albus shot a quick glance at his Mum, assuring himself she was still occupied. Should Albus' chosen pet decide it wants to start a fire, well... No more pet for Al. Quickly, he pulled a small little vial from his robes(who said Dad and Lils were the only ones in the family with a little snake in them?) before feeding it to the creature. Instantly, it changed color. He he. Temporary.

In an hour, the normal coloring would be back. Along with fire spitting powers.

"Mum!" Albus called.

So, fifteen minutes later, nagging, and what-not, Albus succeeded in procuring a fire-breathing lizard. Also known as a salamander, whom Albus christened Ember. Hagrid would be thrilled.


End file.
